


Máscara

by elrojocapucha



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-02 20:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10226156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrojocapucha/pseuds/elrojocapucha
Summary: (Based on the recent works of Nikanono, this AU takes place in a close offshoot of the canon universe.)For years Talon has been trying to disrupt the new world order, never ceasing in their quest to ensure that civilization remains firmly within their grasp. But Reaper, one of Talons top agents, has begun to think that Talon is doing their job sloppily. He devises a plan to wipe the world clean of his enemies with one fell swoop, a masquerade ball where all of Talons high echelon targets are invited. Four invitations, however, go astray, and four unexpected guests take part in Reapers grand design.





	1. Odette

Talon didn’t have a lot on its schedule during the month of August. Everything was stale as unsaturated soup broth left to stand for two weeks, just pale and lifeless. 

There wasn’t a point in attacking Numbani because that robotic horse freak was now defending it, and even if they were to go through with the plan reconnaissance updates would take at least two more months.

Attempting another raid on the abandoned Watchpoint Gibraltar wasn’t going to get Talon anywhere, especially after their last run in with what the grunts started calling, “Harambe Reborn”.

Dorado didn’t seem to be a logical choice, Lucio was holding a concert there in protest against Lumerico’s recent actions regarding omnic worker abuse, so a mission there could get messy.

Eichenwald was a useless graveyard, Oasis still had yet to be surveyed, location after location Talon didn’t see the opportunity to strike. 

Until their agent, Reaper started to become crafty. He began going on cryptically about failed assassination attempts, revenge, all the things that spawned from the hatred of the man once known as Gabriel Reyes.

Then one day out of nowhere, Reaper assembled his usual trifecta by calling for fellow Talon agents Widowmaker and Sombra.

Reaper had asked them personally to come to his quarters. Needless to say, Sombra and Widowmaker were thrown off by this level of discretion.

His room was nothing short of haunting, shadowy essence seeping through every crack in his walls, scratches and shrapnel impacts peppered across the surface. 

The man, or rather thing, had issues. Whatever he could get his hands on, he would vent against it.

Sombra couldn’t help but laugh. Mentally of course, if she actually let out a laugh in Reaper's inner sanctum she’d have less than two seconds to live.

Widowmaker was indifferent, as usual for the emotionless assassin.

They would find him in his chair, its back facing his guests. Quite possibly the only comfortable thing in his room.

“Do you know why I’ve brought you here today?”, Reaper's voice was chillingly sly.

There was an uncomfortable hanging silence, neither Sombra nor Widowmaker was sure of what to say.

“Hmm”, Reaper grunted to himself, standing up from the chair to reveal he had a change of attire. 

He wore a tuxedo tailored to near perfection and adorned a detailed skull mask that covered his face just enough to hide the scars engraved across his face. 

“I suppose an explanation is due then.” He turned around to reveal the final touch, a simple blood red tie with golden etchings across the front of his suit.

This time Sombra couldn’t help but smile, for once Reaper was starting to have some fun in how he did things. 

Widowmaker, on the other hand, could care less, “What’s the mission plan?”

“I’m glad you asked”, Reaper threw out a micro-projector, revealing a hologram layout of a ballroom near Kings Row.

Kings Row was an interesting choice. The struggle for omnic rights was still raging ever further to an ending nowhere near in sight, and knowing what Widowmaker had managed to accomplish during her last visit, any Talon activity was sure to attract enemies seeking payback.

It was the perfect trap.

“I want to see what we can do in broad daylight, hidden amongst the crowd and behind masks that conceal our true intentions.” Reaper began to highlight key points of the ballroom, highlighting the ventilation system in particular. “If we were to arrange a social gathering of all the highest enemy echelon we’ve had to struggle with, we could theoretically kill them all in the same location.”

Widowmaker continued to question Reaper, “And how do you suggest we do that? An event like this would be all over the news, this is anything but discreet.”

Reaper then looked to Sombra, waving his left hand activating a list of names and faces to appear in the hologram projection.

“You’d be surprised to see how many people in Kings Row want the world order destroyed as much as we do.” Reaper implied coldly,” Besides, Sombra can ensure the event remains private with an EMP barrier surrounding the perimeter”, he waved his right hand to show a demo of the EMP barrier covering the entire facility.

“No one gets in, or out unless it’s us.” Reaper was sounding more prideful, it wasn’t like him to think of something this convoluted.

Sombra decided to cast her own concerns, “So we can secure the piggies and kill ‘em all in one setting, I get it. But just how exactly are you going to pull this off? Guns’ll make too much noise, and I doubt we can get the guests to kill each other for arbitrary reasons.”

Reaper then pointed once again to the ventilation, still highlighted, “When the time is right, we release high concentrations mustard gas into the vents so that it can infiltrate every room in the area. No one, no matter where they are, our targets die.”

Sombra then took a couple of steps back, sure it was a full proof plan to finally achieve the victory Talon needed, but the thought of countless people suffering a slow and gruesome death gnawed at her mind. 

It was definitely Reaper’s way of thinking, but it wasn’t hers.

Widowmaker began to sound interested, “And how would we extract?”

“Gas filters will be provided to all of us, we’re the only ones that leave this ball alive.” Reaper picked up the projector, shutting down the hologram.

He then looked at them one more time before asking them to leave, “I can understand if this is all a bit...much. Take a day to consider joining my efforts, if you come back to me with a request to decline, I won’t force you to come on the mission.”

As Sombra and Widowmaker began to exit the room, Reaper quietly mumbled to himself as if his guests were still there, “But you’d be missing out on all the fun~”.

By the time they left Reaper's quarters and were a safe enough distance away, Sombra began to worry about what had happened to Reaper that caused him to become more maniacal than usual.

“I recorded the conversation”, Sombra said as she handed a small chip over to Widowmaker, “bring it to the higher-ups, he never mentioned getting approval for his ‘mission’, so we’ll need to see if this really is viable.”

Widowmaker accepted Sombras gift and watched as she cloaked while walking away. 

Moments later Widowmaker was discussing Reapers plan with one of Talons “higher-ups”. The figure cloaked in shadow so as not to reveal its true identity.

“You sure he’s thought this through?”

“He hasn’t been like this in a while. The plan seems logical, but the way he wants to execute it seems messy. You should have all the details in the chip Sombra made.” Widowmaker explained.

The figure sighed, “Reaper...no, Reyes has been harboring something for a long time. We know he has it out for ex-Overwatch agents, but to go about and wipe the slate clean…” 

It began to worry, “...we wouldn’t have a purpose.”

Widowmaker sighed, “So. What would you have me do then?”

“Accept his mission”, the figure began to walk away, “we’ll provide you with an anti-venom that will make you immune to the effects of the gas. It’s a crude weapon from centuries past, it’s not that hard to develop a counter to it in this day and age. But if anything strays too far from his original plan, kill him. That will be all.”

Widowmaker watched as the figure vanished into the distance, heading immediately to the Med-Bay for her antidote. 

The injection wasn’t anything to look forward to, just because she couldn’t feel emotions didn’t mean she couldn’t feel pain.

Once the near torturous procedure was over, she headed back to Reaper's quarters. 

As the door opened, it revealed Reaper still sitting, patiently. “So, are you in?”

Widowmaker employed a fake smile, convincing enough for Reaper to buy into the lie, “Of course, it's a plan without flaw.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Reaper stood up from his chair and moved to his wardrobe, revealing a nearly eternal hoard of costumes and outfits he had designed. 

Swiping the clothes to the right, he eventually came upon the item he sought, “you’ll be needing these.”

In his hands resided a beautiful black open back dress, sewn from the finest silk derived from the far reaches of the oriental east, a collar sprinkled with diamonds, heels born of pure leather and golden string, and a mask with wings given life through thin marble. 

“And before you forget”, Reaper then offered her an official invitation. One of the British parliament's cabinets had sent out invites according to his instructions, he really did have the connections he boasted of.

Widowmaker accepted these “gifts”, and dressed in her new decorum in preparation for the event. 

On the night of the ball, as Widowmaker walked slowly through the doors of the building, she could faintly hear the last of Reapers words before she left his quarters echoing in her mind.

“May you fly with grace...my fair Odette.”


	2. Punk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation goes astray to a recovering agent.

Kings Row became a ghost town for weeks after Mondattas assassination. No one ever stepped outside of their home, no one even talked to each other.

Whatever conversation did take place occurred behind doors. 

For Lena Oxton, it was hard to even have a healthy conversation within her own home.

There would be days where she would wallow on her bed, wondering what could have been done differently, how she could have been the hero who saved the leader for omnic rights.

Her mind also kept drifting to Widowmaker, how she fought with her and come back to tell the tale, how the assassin had no moral compass.

Night terrors began to plague her mind, even bleed into the day where she would hallucinate visions of the night she failed.

Her only two friends during this period were Emily, her girlfriend and only physical caretaker in England, and Winston, an overly inquisitive and intelligent gorilla.

Winston could only contact Lena with long distance calls, it was bad enough that the leader for omnic rights had just died, imagine if they saw a bioengineered animal running amok.

Emily would sit, walk, and sleep beside Lena no matter where she went in her apartment. 

Lena had started a habit of going off with rampant emotions whenever she’d think back to that night, and it was Emily’s job to make sure she’d bring the poor girl back to the present safe and sound.

That’s not to say Winston never received a healthy dose of Lena’s occasional rants, screaming bloody murder and seeking vengeance on talon. 

Simply put, Emily was the nurse, and Winston was the psychiatrist. Both had parts that worked in tandem to help get Lena back to a happier disposition.

The worst of times for Emily and Winston was when Lena began having major Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, her mind going back to that fateful night.

Her callsign, Tracer, would come to be its own personality during this time.

Whenever Tracer was present she’d relive the events of the night Mondatta was “murdered in cold blood” as she would often put it.

Emily would have to lock all the doors, windows, anything and everything that served as an exit from the apartment whenever Tracer went berserk.

While it kept Tracer inside, it didn’t stop her from her from thrusting her body against the wall in an attempt to break it down.

Emily would have to hold Tracer down, trying her damnedest to get the bloodthirsty girl to calm down and see things clearly.

Every morning was a struggle to get Lena up from her own mental trappings, every evening was a hellish fight to get an enraged Tracer to sleep.

At the end of the week, Tracer dissipated back into a callsign, and Lena came back utterly exhausted. 

She wouldn’t leave her bed for days until she felt stable enough to walk, speak, eat, the essentials.

On the morning she recovered, it seemed as though the city had recovered with her. 

Life, commerce, and the conversation came back to the once desolate streets of Kings Row.

Lena even became peppier with each passing day, every hour slowly gaining back more of what made her the world's brightest beam of sunshine.

Emily couldn’t be happier that the love of her life was back on her feet, and decided to take her out for a date one night.

It went pretty smooth, nothing to write home about sure, but what mattered was Lena was back, and Emily couldn’t help but cry when she saw her recover.

They rekindled what seemed lost after so many grueling weeks of coping, knowing that no matter how dark the situation that they would always have one another.

Winston was also relieved to hear Lena was doing fine again. He almost lost his appetite during those sleepless nights when she’d call enraged. To finally hear her happy again lifted a great twisting pain from his chest.

Kings Row had its hero back, and soon enough fate had decided that the city should be rewarded for its recovery efforts.

One night, in their apartment, Lena was making tea for her and Emily. 

It was a movie night for the couple and they we’re going to binge every romance flick they could get their hands on.

Lena's ears perked up like a dog excited for some company when she heard Emily unlock the door and step in.

“Good evenin’ Luv!” Lena shut off the oven and let the kettle cool off, rushing over to give Emily a hug and a kiss on the lips.

Emily giggled, “Good evening Lena!” She reached into her purse, “I brought you something!”

“Oh really now?”, Lena raised her eyebrow, curious about what Emily had brought home.

Emily pulled out a velvety envelope, “They’re holding a ball near here in a couple of days. My boss handed it to me because he didn’t seem interested, and I’m not really into that so…”

She placed the envelope in Lena's soft and gentle hands,”...I wanted to give it to you. I figured you would want to get back out into the public scene more, and that this would help-”

Before she could finish she could feel her ribs being gently crushed by Lena, nearly sobbing, her face drilled into Emily's chest.

Emily couldn’t help but giggle as Lena's moving face tickled her uncontrollably.

Lena dug her head out of her lover's involuntary grasp to look into her eyes, “Thank you!”

She sniffled while Emily continued to smile, but her happy expression slowly turned to mild confusion, “But...I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I knew you’d say something like this.” Emily walked over to her room, leaving Lena to wonder what she had in mind.  
She came back with a crisp, black and finely tuned suit. “Once upon a time I wore it for high school prom.”

Lena couldn’t help but grin, “And how’d that go for you?”

“She was a nice girl, but we never hit it off”, Emily sighed, lifting her head back up. “But I think it’d look better on you anyway.”

As Emily handed Lena the suit, she reached back and pulled out a box, “Truth be told it’s a masquerade party, so Winston sent me this when I texted him about it.”

Lena became confused, “Wait since when did Winston text?...Since when COULD he text?”

Emily shrugged, “He said Athena helped him with communications, I’m guessing speech to text also counts for assistance.”

Lena scratched her head, “Yeah...I suppose it does. Anyways he made this?”

Emily smiled, “He did! Hopes you like it and all that.”

Lena placed the suit down on the kitchen table so that she could open the box. 

When the top cover came off, it revealed a beautifully crafted black eye mask. Hewn from obsidian and engraved with golden swirls.

Lena couldn’t help but laugh with delight, “I love it!”

Emily returned with a laugh of her own, and they embraced knowing that Lena had finally come back to her senses.

About two hours later they received another package from Winston, a version of the chronal accelerator designed to work with the suit Lena would wear, small enough to fit under the outfit and yet still operational.

On the night of the ball, Lena was clad in her suit and ready to enter. 

As she walked through the doors, a shadowy figure watched her enter from the second-floor Window.

Reaper made it a point to watch and observe all the guests that would enter, making sure every target was within his grasp.

Then he saw Lena Oxton...Tracer...of all people walk right into his den.  
Somebody didn’t accept their invitation.

His fists clenched to the point where blood could be seen dripping from his hands.

He only had one thing to say under his muffled and enraged breath,”...Punk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter before the fifth will serve as a backstory for how each of the four guests manages to attend the party. The fifth chapter (and hopefully from then onward, TBD) will be the events that unfurl at the ball.


End file.
